Dementia
by Have a little Faithe
Summary: We all have to grow up sometime. HPDM, so beware, you little prudish flamers. Heavy on the Hermione, BEWARE! Teen angst...foul language, self mutilation, suicide, death, SEX SEX SEX...all that good stuff.
1. Escape

**_Chapter One - Escape_**

She let out a gasp.

It was followed by a sharp hiss.

As sharp as the blade she held in her hand.

Then she hung her head, her eyes welling with tears.

Hermione looked down at the long line she had created on her arm. It seemed to hesitate, holding in the warm red life it held inside it, hugging onto it, only to have it slip away, welling over the skin she had just split open. The blood was now running down her forearm, from it's point of origin, below the crook of her elbow. It looked like it was running away from the cut, fleeing from the insides, as she wanted to do so herself. She watched it intensely for a moment, then looked up quickly, her head jerking back to look over her shoulder, her now long and straightened brown hair bouncing slightly. The room had seemed darker than before. Now the small amount of light that reached her eyes was blinding her, as if she hadn't seen the sun in days. It came from a small crack between the curtain around her bed. She had forgotten she was only in the girls dorm room, the hangings around her tightly shut, adhered together magically. She had spun around so violently, squinting in what little light entered her world, because of a sound. It sounded like someone coming up the stone steps, their voices cheerfully echoing off the cold walls of the corridor. Someone comign up from the feast in the Great Hall. Would they be looking for her? Did anyone notice she wasn't there? It seemed deafening to her, ever little sound amplified to her ears, picking up any small sound that could be her cue to hide. But it wasn't anyone. She had probably only heard the scurrying of a mouse, the scrape of a beetle, the graceful weaving of the spider. She was alone. Utterly and completely.

"Oi. Gerroff me!" a rough grumble came from under a mop of red hair at the breakfast table that morning. The Great Hall was filled with chattering students, as usual, and Ron was not in the mood to talk to any one of them. He looked up into the eyes of the person who had just crashed into his shoulder, nearly landing in his lap. It was only Neville, his round face beading with sweat.

"Sorry, Ron. Sorry 'bout that." He got up quickly, sitting back down next to Dean, who was giggling madly at his trick. Before seating himself, Neville tenderly lifted a tack off his seat. He frowned at it, all the while rubbing his backside. Dean broke his laugh only to cough out;  
"It's the classics that are the best. Didn't need magic to pull that off."

"And I bet Weasel just LOVED that little lap dance. Didn't you, Weasel? Going to take Neville off for a shag now, you little faggot?"

The drawling voice that glided smoothly from the lilywhite lips of the speaker to the bight red ears of Ronald was owned none other than-

"Malfoy." Ron gritted his teeth and stared up at Draco, absolute fire in his eyes.

"Potter." Ron saw that Draco's eyes were not meeting his steely gaze, but reaching over the top of the fiery red head. Ron furrowed his brow, then turned to see a familiar face, one he had been waiting to see all summer long.

"Fuck off Malfoy." Harry sat heavily beside Ron, leaning forward to look around his friend. His hair was longer, hanging in his eyes, well covering his scar. But Ron knew that Harry didn't much care if anyone saw his scar. It was their seventh and final year at Hogwarts. Anyone worth knowing already knew who Harry was. No reason to hide anymore.

"I would, Potter, but it seems I can't find the person I'd like to fuck." The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Hermione walked through them, her robes tightly wrapped around her, her arms in the same fashion. Draco turned slightly, his eyes narrowing to the side, watching Hermione make her way towards them. Ron and Harry were still staring at Draco, unaware of their friend standing behind them. Draco licked his lips and smiled, returning his gaze to the two boys. "How ;bout your little bookish friend. Have you two seen her. Oh, that's right. You haven't. Well, she's 'round this tall," he gestured with his hand, "long, silky hair, beautiful brown eyes, nice, firm ass," again he gestured, "supple, round ti-" he was stopped by someone coughing madly beside Harry. Harry turned to see who was losing their lungs, then looked back to Malfoy. He did a double take. The girl sitting beside him was no exception of a beauty. Her face was framed perfectly by her long brown hair, her eyes were wide, and sparkling, her teeth, straight and white. He gazed at her for a moment more before he realised who, exactly, he was looking at.

However, Ron still sat, gaping up at Malfoy, a look of bewilderment on his face. "You mean…Lavender?" Lavender, who happened to be sitting across from him, opened her mouth in surprise. Malfoy rolled his grey eyes and hissed;

"I wouldn't want to touch her anyways. Filthy Mudblood." With that, Ron had jumped up from his bench and stood, towering over Malfoy. Malfoy had grown over the summer, but still was no match for the tall, lanky Weasley.

"Never EVER speak about Hermione that way AGAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME!" he shouted, his voice ringing throughout the hall, and sending a hush through the crowd. Malfoy casually looked down at his nails, and then up to Ron again.

"Uh…Ron." Hermione squeaked, and Ron turned to look at Hermione. He did exactly the same thing Harry did, double take, then stared at her blankly. She looked down shyly, and shook her head slightly, her hair falling in her eyes.  
"Oh. Pretty, pretty." Draco strolled over to Hermione. The chatter in the hall began to rise again, the older years losing interest in the drama, seeing it too often. Draco put his fingers beneath Hermione's chin, lifting her face up to him. "Too bad you're dirty. I might go for a girl like you."

"Get out." Harry had risen, more gracefully than Ron's, and though a bit shorter than Draco, even more menacingly. Draco looked into his face, then smirked. He swept his robes aside, and exited the hall. Ron still had one eye on Hermione, who looked up at the two boys, her eyes wide. "Hermione."

She winced at her name, looking down at the empty silver plate in front of her. "Hermione." Harry said this with more urgency this time. Ron took his seat, as well as Harry. Hermione looked up, finally, into the faces of her two best friends. She hadn't seen how much they had changed. Their hair was longer, Harry's more so than Ron. Ron was taller, with a slight build to him, and his robes were no longer too short. Harry's face had matured, his features beautiful and defined. Yet they still looked at her the same way they had not seven years ago,

"Hey, guys." she said, and smiled slightly.


	2. Hidden

**A/N:** _Well lets see...I've gotten a total of, get this, ONE MEASLEY REVIEW! ONE! C'mon people, I need more to go on here. The story's just getting juicy. And I've come out of my awful awful writers block. ACK! Thank you, to my dear Isi for reviewing. glares at the rest of you fwah. Death to all of you._

(ps. you want smut? I'll give you fucking smut...but only after you review. . mwahaha...bribe.)  
(pps. and no, it won't be Draco/Hermione. Ewwy. As dear Isi put it, SACRALIGE! No, no. Some of your beloved Draco/Harry...yes yes yes...)

_**Chapter 2 - Hidden**_

It had taken a while for Ron's brain to register who this beautiful girl was. And when he finally did realise who it was, he took an even longer time convincing himself it was true. He sat in complete silence, the anger he had felt before ebbing away, and forming into a giant shadow of confusion. Harry, however, smiled back at Hermione, wrapping his arms around her, and hugging her tightly.

"Hermione! I haven't seen you all night! Were you at the dinner last night?" Harry swung one foot over the bench, now straddling it, and sat facing Hermione. His back faced Ron, who snapped out of his daze, and looked angrily down at the clean black cotton covering his friend's back. At that moment, he wished it would catch fire.

"No. I wasn't exactly feeling well. I decided to have a rest. I guess I fell asleep." she lied. Her heart ached seeing the believing face of her friend. She tried to comfort her conscious, she wasn't feeling well. She did go up to the dorm. But she wasn't sleeping. She was taking a fucking razor and splitting her skin open with it. She was staring at the bright crimson blood that gently rolled over her arms, that stained her bedspread. But of course, she didn't say this aloud. If Harry, if Ron, if anyone were to know. They wouldn't. she was well hidden. Harry nodded and flicked his head back, the hair in his face sweeping away to the side, but only to fall back into place.

"I had to get help getting here. I wasn't on the train either. Dursley was being an arse, and I had no way to get to Kings Cross station. He decided he didn't really care if I was out of the house or not. So...he…" Harry stopped and bit his bottom lip. Ron, who even though felt very much not in this conversation, was listening. He felt his friend stiffen beside him, and his fraternal instincts kicked in. Something was up. His anger was only temporarily subsided.

"Harry. What happened?" Hermione gazed at her friend in concern, her mind now quieting down from the chaos that took permanent residence in it. Harry merely glanced down at the bench and shook his shaggy head.

"He just didn't want me to go. Nothing big."

"Liar."

Harry turned in surprise at the word coming from his friends mouth. Ron was staring him blank in the face, his lips pursed, his ears a glowing red. Harry had almost forgotten he was sitting behind him. Harry broke the staring contest between the two friends, and hung his head down.

"What, you don't trust me now?"

"No." Ron's answer was short and bitter.

"Well THAT'S JUST GREAT, ain't it!" Harry turned full ways around to stare Ron in the face again. Hermione winced as Harry raised his voice. She was awfully quiet this morning, Ron thought. But he kept his eyes locked on Harry's.

"There's something your not telling us. You don't have to protect us, Harry. It's no danger to know what's wrong with you."

"There is NOTHING wrong with ME, but I'm beginning to wonder about you." Harry snarled, his hair now fully in his face, though Ron could see his bright green eyes burning a hole through the curtain of hair. Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes. Harry had had enough. He stood and swung his foot over the bench, standing now on the other side. He turned to Hermione and nodded slightly, then took great strides down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. He was out the door in a flurry of robes and hair.

Ron didn't even watch his friend walk out. He was sitting, in silence, Hermione a few spots away from him. Her eyes were large, and went from the spot of Harry's departure, to Ron. Her mouth fell into a small frown.

"Ron." she said, in a near whisper. He looked up, his eyes narrowed slightly. They softened when he saw the expression on his friends face. She smiled when he looked up at her. "Hello, Ron."

Ron took a deep breath and moved forward, sliding over into the spot beside her. Her put his arm around her, her head falling onto his shoulder.

The lake was silent and still this time of year. It seemed to be the only thing on the Hogwarts grounds that was unruffled by the sudden presence of hundreds of students. The trees beside the shoreline were tall, and old. Their branches gave cool shade in the summer, and the hollowed insides of the few dead trees gave shelter to any passing creature. This time of year, though, was when the trees just began to turn colour, their leaves vibrant reds, yellows and oranges. The grass was tall, and sweet smelling, as you sat in them, the wind ruffling the tops and making them sing along with the buzzing of the crickets. The lake's surface was glassy, perfect except for the occasional falling leaf, which floated along like a small ship, sailing away from it's home onto new adventures.

This was Harry's favourite place, to sit in the tall grass and look up at the cloudless sky above him. He could think in private here, and even speak aloud. The only person to hear him would be the giant squid, which was also lazily slinking along the bottom of the lake, it's tentacles waving up at him. Though this spot was as calming as ever, Harry still paced back and forth through the grass. His frustrated sighs and growls were met only by a slight echo over the lake. Birds from nearby trees soon took refuge somewhere else, fluttering away at the sudden sounds and movement of Harry throwing a rock into the lake. The loud ker-plunk sound gave Harry no satisfaction, and he scoured the ground for something larger. Picking up a large black lump from the ground, he threw it, and it sailed across, into the lake. It made a rather large splash as it hit the water, disrupting it, sending small waves crashing into the shore. Only when his anger was slightly subsided by making a splash and some noise, did he realise the "lump" was his backpack. Filled with all his books, his quill, his parchment. Harry stood, staring in disbelief at what he had just done.

"Oh shit."  
He watched as the backpack sunk slowly into the water, bubbles floating to the surface. Harry's haze was only broken by the sound of soft sniggering behind him. Harry spun around, his hand reaching towards his pocket, his wand waiting readily. He saw no one. But someone saw him.

Oh God. I hope he didn't see me…please, please don't come over here. Please. Ok, think of something, and excuse, anything…I was, coming here to, uh…uh…watch you. Watch you, and your…beautiful eyes…your soft skin, your long hair and you…oh beautiful you…and…WHAT…no…I can't say that...I'll say…oh Gods…I love you…

The person behind the tree gasped slightly as they heard Harry's footsteps come closer to their hiding spot. A pair of pale eyes closed tightly, even paler hands grasped the bark of the tree even tighter. Until…the footsteps stopped. He then heard a few muttered words, _Accio bag_, and a great splooshing sound. Harry grumbled as he walked heavily back up to the castle, his bag dragging behind him, sopping wet. The boy behind the tree let out a sigh, and watched him again, fingers wrapping around the tree lightly, his blonde hair ruffled slightly as a wind sent a shiver to his creamy skin.

Draco watched from behind the tree, praying that he still goes unnoticed by the boy he was watching. Even as Harry trudged through the front doors and disappear from sight, Draco felt as though a million eyes were watching him, shocked eyes, confused eyes. This boy, whom he had hated, fought with, and swore never to affiliate himself with, was now seen under lustful eyes. Even his own eyes looked inside himself and asked…  
"What the fuck?"


	3. Exposed

_AN: I just had to tell you the title of the next...maybe entice you to review to actually GET IT. It's called "I've got Draco boogies on my wand." mmm...interest you? Well it's gonna be damned funny, right it will be. I'm letting my humour loose on this dark and dreary story. Oh don't worry, there shall be muchly in the ANGST department, and more lovey dovey eyes from Draco, but for now...fwahaha.O.o That's right...fwahaha._

_Also, thank you to Isi who seems to be the only person on here who reads my fics. This, since you asked for it, is for you darling._

_**Chapter Three - Exposed**_

The stone wall felt cold against her fingertips as Hermione traced along the cracks, slowly making her way up the steps to her first class. Her bang hung limply at her side, and she dragged her feet. She had never been so unenthused about anything before, especially classes. Her body felt heavy, and her thoughts were slow. Dark circles laced beneath her eyes, showing the night's restless sleep she had gotten. And most of all, her arm was throbbing with pain.

She had found a spell to reduce the inflammation, make the cuts disappear, and the scarring vanish, but she had no time this morning. She had fallen asleep, her arm cradled next to her. When she awoke, her sheet was stained red, and she looked down at her arm, the blood turning its dark, brown, dried colour. She had gone deeper last night, stroked down the centre of her forearm, only three, but long. She had willed herself to push harder onto the shining razor that night, and it split into her skin neatly, cleanly. The same steely piece of destruction was stained red, the dried blood flaking off at ones touch. Her arm was covered only by the thin fabric that was her robes. She felt as though the robe was invisible, and that everyone would know…the material was too thin, the sleeve was too short. She kept placing her right palm over her left forearm, not even noticing she was doing it.

Ron watched wearily as Hermione trudged through the Potions class door, his chin resting in his hand. He hadn't seen Harry come in yet, and wasn't really looking forward to it. He had something else to worry about. Hermione looked as though she had been hit with a most potent flu, her eyes were drooping, and her spirits were low. But Ron, for once, didn't give into the simplest of excuses. There was something wrong with her, this went deeper than just being tired, or having the flu. He decided that after several years of being there for him, he would now do the same for her.  
"Hermione!" he called out, his voice cracking slightly. Hermione looked up, and smiled weakly. She shuffled over to the empty seat beside Ron. He looked at her with wide eyes. "Hermione, did you sleep at all last night? You look horrible."  
"Gee, thanks." Hermione cast one eye up at Ron, pulling her books out of her bag. Ron's ear went red.  
"No, I didn't mean…I just…" but Ron never finished what he was saying. The door opened, the sounds of laughter and chatter from the outside filling the room, and dying when it was closed. And from the doorway strolled a very smug and content looking Draco, his cloak floating gracefully behind him. His gaze swept the room, landing on Ron, and his mouth unfurled into a nasty smirk. Ron's mouth was still open form being in mid-sentence, and Hermione looked carefully up into Draco's face.

"Good morning, Weasel. Granger." Hermione's face remained in the same sombre gaze, and Draco met it with a sudden look of realisation. He scanned down the front of her robes, down her torso and arms. He stopped for a moment upon her arm, then opened his mouth slightly. Ron was still dumbfounded at his behaviour. Hermione felt as though his gaze was a red hot iron, piercing through her robes. But then she realised he didn't need x-ray vision to see what he was seeing. She looked at the spot where he was fixated on, and found to her horror, her sleeve has been swept up to her elbow, her entire forearm exposed. Very exposed. She quickly slipped her hand beneath her desk, and stared up at Draco defiantly, her stance saying, "Go ahead. I dare you to say something." but her eyes were screaming for him to shut up. Draco then closed his mouth, and looked into her eyes. He then did something he didn't often do. He gave her a playful wink, a wicked smile, and sat in silence in the seats at the back row.

Hermione felt as though she could die right there. He saw. He knew. And yet…he didn't react. Not as though she thought he would. Ron's mouth was left open, still, he being even more perplexed by this strange behavious.  
"He…he didn't…"  
"Take the mickey out of you? I know. It's weird." A familiar voice came to the right of Hermione and she jumped slightly, finding Harry standing behind her. Ron quickly looked back at Harry and then to the empty seat beside him. Harry seemed to have miss this, for he sat heavily into the seat in front of Hermione. "What's his problem?" Harry's eyes were still narrowed on Draco's back. Ron shrugged and turned back to Hermione.

"Hermione, what's with you? You seem…I dunno. Something's not right."  
"Oh don't be silly, Ron." Hermione brushed his comment off, her voice higher pitched than usual. She busily took her books out of her bag. For a moment, Harry and Ron's eyes met, but Harry pulled out of the gaze quickly and began taking his books out as well. With a sigh of resignation, Ron bent over his bag as well.

Potions seemed to drag on forever, and Hermione was still thinking worriedly about what Draco had saw when she quickly scurried out of the classroom before Ron could interrogate her further, when suddenly,  
"Well, well, well." Draco's arm came out of nowhere, and stopped Hermione against the wall. She tried not to look at him, his head craning over hers. But two, delicate white fingers pushed her chin up again, and she was forced to look into the cold grey eyes. His eyes seemed to sparkle, but not with the usual menace they usually had. He smiled slightly, as only Draco could, and spoke in a small whisper,

"You've got a taste for blood, do you?" Hermione didn't see what was coming next, but Draco's hand shot quickly to her arm and pulled it up. Hermione squirmed and whimpered.  
"Please…please let go." she cried softly, watching as more Slytherin's and Gryffindor's went by, some looking on in interest, most looking on in disgust. Draco merely jerked his head back to the other Slytherin's and they disappeared from sight. Hermione kept one eye on Draco's hand, the other was watching helplessly as the Gryffindor's vacated the hall. "Please." she tried again. To her surprise, Draco let go. But only to roll his sleeve up as well. Long white lines stretched across his arm, deep, meaningful. Hermione looked down at them in surprise. She then shot him a disgusted glance. "What, you think I'm some sadistic psycho who enjoys this? A masochistic freak who likes to se-"  
"You do it to feel. You do it to feel control, to feel yourself. To feel alive." Draco's words hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. She stared up at him, open mouthed. Draco smirked darkly. "Though of course, has become a hobby for myself as of late. How deep…how hard…how much…" He caressed the side of Hermione's face, her eyes closed slowly.  
"Oi! OI!" Ron's voice broke the heavy silence, and Draco spun around to face a livid looking Weasley. "Keep your slimy little hands off her, Malfoy!" His arm swung around, clocking a unaware Draco in the head. His blonde hair flew over his face as his head bounced off the stone wall. Harry ran past them to Hermione's side, whilst Ron advanced on Draco again.  
"Ron! Ron stop!" Harry said loudly, as Ron picked Draco up by the front of his robes, his arm swinging back for another hit.  
"STOP!" Hermione cried, and Ron looked up, surprised. He dropped Draco with a thud, and straightened to look at Hermione. She was breathing heavily, her eyes wide. Ron stood, confused for a moment, but was then kicked in the knee, and brought to the ground by a very flustered looking Draco. He pulled out his wand, and flung it up in the air in an elaborate swish, still holding Ron in a headlock, when Ron's wand came flying up from his pocket, and straight into Malfoy's…


	4. I've got Malfoy boogies on my wand

**AN: **_Funny stuff here. This is a very Ron/Hermione chapter, progressing Ron's feelings towards Hermione, and just beginning Hermione's decent into Draco's world. Plus Malfoy boogies..._

_**Chapter Four - I've got Malfoy boogies on my wand…**_

"OH GOD! MY NOSE! OH GOD!"

Draco grabbed at his face, his hands covering his nose, which was throbbing with pain and bleeding slightly. Ron's wand slid easily out of it, and Ron backed up, crawling along the ground until he reached Harry's feet. He grabbed at Harry's robes to help him get up, as the three Gryffindor's watched in horror as Draco stumbled into the wall, his face covered by his hands. Ron's eyes were wide, his wand still held in front of him, at a lengthy distance. He looked from his wand to a struggling Draco, back to his wand. Hermione finally stepped up and put a hand on Draco's arm, pulling it away from his face.  
"Get off, Mudblo-" he growled, but stopped himself before he could finish. Hermione took his hand away from his face delicately, looking him over. He stopped his flailing and stared back at her, his eyes searching hers for some reason for charity. But Hermione merely raised her own wand and muttered a spell, and Draco's nose immediately stopped bleeding, and the swelling went away in a flash. He looked at her disbelievingly, as she let her hand slide from the top of his shoulder to his forearm. She then let go, and backed up to her bag, grabbing it quickly, and running out of the corridor. Harry's eyes narrowed as he looked Draco over, and Ron was still fixated on his wand, which shone slightly with blood and some unknown substance with a green tinge. Draco's eyes met Harry's, and to Harry's surprise, Draco's eyes softened, and he exited as quickly, if not faster, than Hermione did. Harry merely sighed and looked to Ron.  
"I've got…Malfoy boogies on my wand…" Ron said in a disgusted voice, whipping the wand in the air, trying to get the blood and gunk off. Harry snorted and tapped Ron's wand with his own, cleaning it instantly. He then threw Ron with a know-it-all glance.  
"At least it's not giant Troll boogies."

Hermione ran quietly and quickly through the halls. What has just happened there? She couldn't get the image of Draco's scar laden arm, and how his fingers glided down her cheek. And then she had done a most unforgivable act in Ron and Harry's eyes and helped him. But Hermione felt no guilt in this, but she felt a rather warmer feeling towards Draco. He knew about her, and he was accepting. It was a relief that at least one person knew, and at least one other person in the world who felt as she did, who handled it as she did. And the words that Draco left her with were beyond truth. But how he described it, as a hobby, as a challenge for himself. Hermione couldn't get the sick feeling out of her stomach as she hurried to her next Runes class.

Same thoughts of why and how drifted through Ron's head that day too, sitting in the small, cramped Charms room, Harry by his side. They were practising a knotting charm, and shrieks from Hannah Abbot filled the air as Neville swished his wand through the air, thus accidentally tying her long air to the back of her chair. It seemed Harry had forgotten about their small spat that morning, and Ron decided that it was the walk outside that did Harry good. That, or the fact that whenever Ron took out his wand, Harry would begin to laugh madly, and they both recalled that afternoons events. But Ron could never figure out why Harry, when pulling out his quill and ink, came up with instead, a giant, gurgling toad. Their conversation switched unexpectedly from the newest broom, the _Dragon Blayze_, to Ron spurting out,  
"Something's wrong with Hermione."

Harry looked at him with surprise, and leaned over the desk, his chin in his hand. Ron sighed and looked down at his shoes, which were tying and untying themselves. Ron shook his wand at them, and they began twirling about his legs, smoking, and landed in a heap on top of themselves. Harry stared down at his shoes for a moment, then responding slowly,  
"I know. And that thing with Malfoy, that was too weird."  
"I'm not talking about Malfoy Harry. I'm talking about how she's been. She looks horrid, if you haven't noticed-"  
"I think she looks great!" Harry raised his eyebrows, a gesture which was hidden by his hair, yet still received by an impatient Ron.

"No, Harry, I mean, she's looking different…"  
"Well yeh, but that's what I mean. Her hair and her teeth, and I think she's wearing a bit of make-up too-"  
"I know! She gorgeous! She's one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen, alright? Even more-so now." Ron's fists were clenched and his face was screwed up in a look of sheer terror at these words. Immediately, his ears skipped from red to a violent maroon. Harry's mouth was still open from his last sentence, and he cleared his throat as people around them stopped what they were doing to stare. Even Hannah stopped crying whilst trying to get her hair loose, Neville only making things worse by jerking his wand about. Ron looked angrily up at everyone and growled, "Well, get on with it!" The chatter rose again and people went back to their work. Harry looked at Ron seriously.  
"Ron…I never knew you felt this way…"  
"What I MEAN is…" Ron continued, through gritted teeth, his wand hand shaking, and his shoelaces tying and untying themselves at rapid pace, "She looks like she's been through the mill a couple times. Really. She's got heavy eyes, and no energy. And she seems…a bit….peaky. I dunno." He grumbled and threw his wand down onto the table as those around them packed their bags to leave. "I just wish I could help her. Harry, you know how much she means to me. She means just as much to you. We've got to help her. We owe her at least that much."  
With that, Harry nodded and they both got up to leave, Ron immediately falling flat on his face, his shoelaces still tied together.

_A.N. well...I've given up. No one seems to review these damned things, so the sole reason I am even continuing to post these chapters is for my favourite author/friend/person/reviewer (make that ONLY), Isi. Much thanks, lamb. _

_BUT GUESS WHAT! I'm making a final, last ditch attempt at getting people to read this! Next chapter, a little somethin' from the Harry/Draco (and I mean little, but still..) and the chapter after that. pure. smut. gold. gots it? REVIEW DAMNIT!_


	5. Obsession

_AN I dont care about reviews anymore...I'm just...ugh...just...ugh_

__

_**Chapter 5 - Obsessed**_

Draco took long strides through the great hall the next morning, not daring to look at the three Gryffindors seated at the adjacent table. Harry and Ron watched, amused as Draco's frantic scramble to get a seat with his back facing them, having to kick out a few frightened looking first years in the process. Hermione, though, sat quietly, hidden behind her books. Harry turned to her only when he hear a frustrated sigh come from behind "Runes and You: A Guide for Understanding Complex Translations" by Milgrim Plockter. Harry leaned slightly over the book, his eyes locking onto a pair of puffy, dark circled eyes that belonged to Hermione. She looked warily up at him.  
"Toast?" He pushed a slice of toast over her book and it landed with a crackle before her hand. She looked at it for a moment, then went back to reading. Harry, disconcerted by her lack of poise that morning, kept a close eye on her, keeping in mind Ron's worrisome rants about her throughout History and the last night, when she had gone to bed early.

"I'm beginning to think this is more than just worrying for a friend, Ron." Harry said, nodding his head slightly to Ron who was sprawled out on his stomach in front of the common room fire. Harry sat in a large squishy chair, only obtained by coming up behind timid first and second years and talking about how they lost their poisonous spider for care of magical creatures, and they were sure they left it on that chair just moments ago. Ron gave Harry a death glare, but Harry had had enough of those to know it was an empty threat. "I mean, you're going on so much I'm worried you'll start talking about how her nails look like they could use more calcium." Harry then ducked as a Potions textbook came flying his way.

Hermione did look as though she needed something, her face was paler and sallower than before, and she looked as if she would keel over if Harry were to even breath around her. He pulled the book down and stared her in the face.

"What's with you?" he had a most serious expression pasted below the shaggy hair. Yet his eyes gleamed dangerously. Hermione saw Ron look over Harry's shoulder at her. She grimaced and subconsciously put her hand to her arm.

"I'm just really, really tired." she emphasized the really with every fibre of her tired being. She had spent the last night sitting up in bed, thinking of what Draco had said. How deep, how much. She took her razor out and placed it on her wrist, lightly skimming the surface at first. It stung more than any other cut she had done. She looked at the light line of blood, just a small trickle, not even enough to roll down her arm. She placed the razor down, and this time, willed herself to press harder. Her skin split neatly again, but this time, more blood spilled from the cut, her razor gliding smoothly through her wrist. It was deep, and she gasped in surprise. The pain was instant, but then, a tremendous high came to her. Her brain felt light, her breath was easily flowing through her lungs. Her adrenaline rushed as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back to it hit her wall, making a soft thud. She sat, in ecstasy, for a moment. Then, as fast as it came, it was gone. She looked down at her wrist, the blood still gleaming. Picking up her wand, she hovered it lightly over the cut. It healed partially, some parts still open and seeping spots of blood. She felt relaxed, content. She felt at peace. And then she picked up her razor, and did it again.

Harry and Ron, of course, did not know this. Her eyes quickly darted over to Draco at the table next to them. He sat with his back to her, but the instant she looked at him, he turned around and his eyes scanned the table. They locked gazes for a moment, and he nodded his head inquiringly to her. She closed her eyes and quickly turned back to Harry. Harry, much to her dismay, was following her gaze. He straightened and looked over to Draco as well. As soon as Draco saw Harry look over, his pale cheeks turned a brilliant pink, and his fork slipped out of his hand. Harry, feeling a jolt in his stomach, turned to Hermione.

"What did he do? Did Malfoy hurt you, Hermione?" he asked hurriedly, leaning forward, looking her square in the eye. Hermione shook her head and placed her hand on her arm again. Ron had stood up, though no one noticed, and now stood between Harry and Hermione. He looked down at her and put his hand on hers. Hermione gasped and pulled away. Ron looked taken aback for a moment, then furrowed his brow. Harry looked from him to Hermione. His tone turned from worried, to angry. "Hermione what is with you!" He looked back to Ron, who stood, silent and steely eyed. Hermione stood, and picked up her books. She ran from the Hall, her hair and robes flying behind her. Ron made a motion to follow her, but Harry grabbed his arm. "Look."

Ron followed Harry's outstretched finger to Draco, who had also risen and walked, striding gracefully towards the exit. Ron watched him leave, and Harry pulled him to face each other.

"See! I told you Draco has something to do with this. Something is up with Draco. We need to follow him." He stopped, looked at Ron with a maniacal look on his face. Ron shook his head slowly and said in a low voice,

"You seemed too worried about Draco and not enough about Hermione, Harry." Harry's mouth dropped open slightly, and his shoulder sagged. Ron continued, looking towards the doors. "It's like your obsessed or something."

"I am not obsessed with Draco! He's nothing to me!" Harry felt suddenly sick at these words. His mind was flooded with thought of Draco. How he hated him, how he wanted nothing but to prove Draco was scum. How he admired him. How he loathed to have his…his…oh…dear. Harry's mouth was still open as Ron walked slowly away from him. He shook his head, trying to get thoughts of Draco from his mind. Malfoy. The one he's hated all these years. The one he was quite sure hated him. But his mind only stayed on one topic for the rest of the day. Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy.

Draco had followed Hermione into the girls washroom after her exit from the hall.She was crying in a corner, her small body packed tightly against the wall, a shuddering black mass as Draco approached her. Her head jerked up as she heard the echoing footsteps approached. He stopped, taking a step back when she gasped. Her face was swollen, tears rolling down her cheeks. Draco knelt down, putting his fingers ever so faithfully beneath her chin. She sniffled and dropped her eyes. Draco shook his head and lifted his fingers more, so her attention came to him.

"Was it bad, last night?"

She nodded. He reached down and took her arm, Hermione instinctively twitching slightly. He raised her arm and pulled back her robe. The cuts were red, angry, and deep. He tilted his head to the side. He pulled back his own sleeve, thrusting his arm out. His arm was laced with red carvings, long lines vertically up his arm. She placed an index finger on one, and traced it up to his elbow. He closed his eyes and took a small intake of breath. Hermione stopped and looked up at him.

"Sorry." she whispered. Draco opened his eyes and shook his head, pulling his sleeve back down. He then straightened up, putting his hand out for Hermione. She took it and pulled herself up, and they both walked from the washroom. As they exited, though, a pair of hands suddenly grabbed Draco and pushed him against the wall. The hands belonged to none other than Harry.

"What were you doing? What have you done with her?" he growled, and pushed Draco up against the wall. Draco stared at him in confusion, and Hermione placed a hand over her gaping mouth.

"Harry. Harry please, let him down…" Hermione hissed, watching helplessly as Harry angrily shook Draco, his blonde head bobbing from side to side.

"What have you done?" Harry said again, this time louder. Draco's breathing got heavy and his heart raced. All the while, thoughts of who was pinning him against the wall raced through his head. "What have yo-" Harry was cut short by Draco's lips on his. They stood, for a moment, Harry still holding Draco against the wall, Draco's hands wrapped around Harry's. Hermione stared, dumbfounded at the scene. Harry suddenly pulled away.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" his eyes were wide and blazing. Draco looked as shocked as Harry did. He ran, down the hall and out of sight, leaving Harry and Hermione in awkward silence.


	6. Obsession Pt2: Bloodlust

_AN: Second part of obsessed. I just wanted a different page for this chapter, though it goes along with the theme of the last. READY! SET! SMUT!  
(my first smut scene, so, be nice.)_

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_**Chapter Six - Obsessions Pt.2: Bloodlust**_

A groan escaped Draco's lips as he threw his head back onto his soft pillow. A pair of hands made their way up his bare chest, stopping at his throat, and a single finger trailed its way up his chin to his mouth. The pair of hands were followed by a pair of lips, the owner, a dark haired boy with bright green eyes, which were now shining in the dim candlelight. Draco smiled as Harry kissed him softly, his fingers moving from his throat up his arms, which were handcuffed to the bed frame. Harry reached up to where his hands were, leaning over Draco's face, his chest brushing Draco's lips, which reached out hungrily. Harry's eyes fell upon Draco's scars, lining his arms, long and deep. He kissed them, taking a deep breath in.

"My boy's got a bloodlust, does he?" Harry carefully ran a finger down one of the scars. As his finger slid down them, they magically opened, small trickles of blood spilling down his pale arms, contrasting greatly against his skin and the white bed sheet beneath the two boys. Draco took a sharp breath, and looked up as Harry moved his face closer to his outstretched arms. Harry's tongue snaked out and slowly licked the line of blood, the blood rolling onto his tongue. Draco let out a small noise, closing his eyes for a moment, then opening them. Harry came back down, nibbling his ear for a moment. He then carefully kissed his way down to his neck, to his collarbone, his chest and his stomach, stopping just below his navel. Draco looked down, his breathing becoming steadily heavier.

"Well…go on then." he looked at Harry incredulously.  
"Oh, but I love to see you squirm." Harry grinned wickedly. Draco smirked and put his head back again, letting a huff out impatiently. He felt fingers along his waist, moving slowly down to his legs, and inner thighs. Draco arched his back slightly and he heard a soft chuckle from Harry. Suddenly, Draco felt himself be engulfed by the other boy. A gasp escaped him, in spite of himself. A slow rocking motion set him off, and he opened his eyes to find the other boy straddling him, his hands now making their way up to Draco's neck. Draco moaned louder this time, a great wave of pleasure washing over him. The feeling was incredible, as though he and Harry were as one. The sound of Harry's groans was music to his ears, and the two boys were locked in ecstasy.

Just as Draco felt himself nearing his climax, Harry leaned forward, giving Draco a passionate kiss. Draco kissed hard, finally letting go and whispering softly in his ear,

"I love you."

"I love you too, Draco."  
But this voice was not Harry's, and Draco opened his eyes to find his father standing beside his bed, Harry nowhere in sight. Before Draco could open his mouth, his father pulled a large dagger from his cloak, and plunged it into Draco's heart.

Draco woke with a start, sitting in his bed in the Slytherin dorm. He gasped for breath as he looked wildly around him, his clothes on, neither Harry nor his father were nowhere to be found. After the shock subsided, Draco pushed himself up so his back hit the wall behind him. He slowly pulled his knees up to his chest, and buried his head into his arms, which were throbbing from earlier that night. He didn't sleep the rest of the night.


	7. Addicted

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AN: Thank you toStarryTain for reviewing and having faith in me, cause that's what we all need, eh? To Have A Little Faithe? Ha! PUN! GET IT? Ooh…baaad…ahem…well I also got some criticism from dear Isidoria. Well it seems she didn't like Harry being on top in Bloodlust (both literally and figuratively) and that IT WASN'T REAL SMUT it was DREAM SMUT. But alas, I told her, I said, ISI…you shall find out what this dream MEANS in the next few chapters. IT HAS MEANING…even Harry being on top HAS MEANING. Plus the whole stabbing thing…hehehe…but I do hope she likes this chapter. And the next. Hawr hawr hawr. The next chappie, by the by, is called Who I Am And Who I Ought to Be…so LOOK OUT FOLKS…appearances by Lucius Malfoy! Woot…plus smut. As a very good friend of mine would say… Damn skippy.

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_**Chapter Seven - Addicted**_

Ron sat, dumbfounded, as Harry retold the story from the hallway that evening. Hermione had run off after Draco had, and Harry nor Ron hadn't seen her since. They sat in the common room by the fire, Harry watching as snowflakes drifted past the window. Christmas was nearing, and the feeling in the halls was anything but cheery. It all seemed colder nowadays. The look of confusion changed to disgust.

"So, he, kissed you? Like, kissed-kissed, tongues and stuff?" he squeaked out, his mouth twisted into a look of great distaste.

"Oh Ron, say it a bit louder, I think the HUFFLEPUFFS didn't hear you." Harry hissed, leaning towards Ron menacingly. Ron widened his eyes and his mouth dropped open. His expression then turned into a look of sheer terror.

"What if, y'know, he wants to get with you. What if he wants to shag you, Harry?"

A group of fifth years who were gossiping over in a corner looked over at this, and Harry hid his face in his hands and Ron made a very rude hand gesture.

"Shh-t-pp--SHH-TP--Rn" he mumbled into his hands.

"Wha? Oh sorry, mate, but this is all way too mind-boggling for me." Ron rested his head in his hands, laying back onto the ground. "I mean, I always knew Malfoy and you had this twisted obsession with each oth-"

"I'M NOT OBSESSED WITH DRACO!" Harry said loudly, so that even more of their fellow sixth years looked on in interest.

"Fine, fine, not obsessed. You just have this thing, you know?"  
"Thing? We have no _thing, _Ronald. The only thing I see is you and Hermione _thing. _And you being too blind to see Draco has something to do with this."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Ron sat up, a frustrated sigh following.  
"You know its true, you are practically in love with Hermio-"

"No, I mean, 'Draco.' 'Draco' this and 'Draco' that. You used to say Malfoy." Ron muttered, staring at his shoes.

"Well excuse me for slipping up on his name. It is his name, isn't it?"

"Well, the way you say it. Malfoy, you said with such hate. Draco you say like you-" he stopped dead.

"Like I what? Go on. I dare you. Say it." Harry growled though clenched teeth. Ron's ears turned bright red, even more illuminated by the fire behind him.

"Like you want him. You say his name like I say, oh, lessee…Butterbeer? Chocolate Frogs?"

"Madam Rosmerta." Harry coughed into his hand. Ron stared at him angrily, and Harry grinned. "Oh come on, you know very well that I meant to say Hermione."

"Don't avoid the subject, Harry. There's something between you two. I don't even think you know it yourself."  
That night, Harry went to bed with a feeling of dread in his stomach. Was Ron right? He and Draco has always been tense with each other, but all he had ever felt for the boy was hate. Hate for him, hate for who he was. Harry couldn't see how it could be interoperated as anything other than that. He tried pushing this from his mind, but that night, Harry was plagued by dreams of Draco chasing him around with Dobby's tea-cosy.

Hermione sat in a large velvet chair, its red surface old and worn, threadbare arms and tattered footrest before it. It has been used by many, though few knew of it. Stacks of books and letters and pieces of parchment surrounded it, and Hermione poured over a large spell book with a leather bound cover and gold printing along the side. She sat in the Room of Requirement, her requirements; a place to hide away. Not a place to hide, that would've been a dark broom cupboard with only a bucket for a seat and a mouse for company. A hide-away was a temporary place, someplace to be comfortable for a moment. She couldn't get the image of Draco kissing Harry out of her head. She didn't know if what she was feeling was jealousy, or shock. She hadn't completely developed feelings for Draco, she never would and she knew that. But she saw something in him, something of herself, and it was comforting. Someone like her was out there.

But she felt another thing, in the pit of her stomach. Something aching, aching like her arm was. She felt a need for it. She hadn't attended classes that day, her mind was focused on something else. Getting her next fix. She couldn't even read the book in front of her without looking down at her wrist, then longingly at the safety pin attached to her shoe. She found as her thoughts darkened to other things, the room grew dimmer and in odd places, pencil sharpeners and compasses from arithmetic sets came popping up. Her chair turned into a deep purple bed, the velvet still glimmering softly in a candlelight. This became her hide-away. Not surrounded by books, like she would have enjoyed before. But surrounded by herself, by her own dark inside…

It wasn't enough. She wasn't enough. They wanted her to be better, and she was giving it her all. How could they expect so much from her?

Hermione remembered the first time she ever picked up a broken piece of glass and slipped it carefully across her arm. She sat in her room during the summer holiday, books and paper stacked around her, quills and ink bottles everywhere in a frantic mess that was her home. Her parents below her screamed at one another, their yells muffled by the hardwood floors between the, but their hurt piercing through the floor and into Hermione's heart.

_It's about me…_she thought, furious tears steaming down her face. _Mother is so angry with me. I should be better. I should be smarter. I need to be perfect. Maybe then things would be better. Why can't they accept me? Why am I not doing something right, I'm always right…_

A slam of a door told her that her father had left the house again. He would go down to the local bar and get drunk, come home, and take his pent up rage out on his terrified wife and daughter. Past the mask of their beautiful suburban home, their perfect family with the straight-A student, the perfect marriage, was a beast waiting to be unleashed. Her father had always had a temper, and it slipped every now and then. Her mother usually got the end of it, her pain hidden beneath a layer of makeup to hide the bruises and scrapes he inflicted. Hermione was struck, once, twice. Her father had been extremely upset then, tears streaming down his own face as he beat the sobbing mass that was Hermione at age 13. Now 16, Hermione felt as though the problems had escalated, and her parents were depending on her. She had to make things perfect for them. One mess up, and her mother wouldn't be able to look at her without crying, and her father would surely go on another one of his angry rants.

"Well I didn't sign up for this freak-show! She Can't go to a normal school? I have to lie to my family and friends that she goes away to boarding school, like she's some sort of discipline case!" he bellowed at her mother, who sat calmly on the couch, he hands folded before her.

"Why can't you be proud of this?"

"Why can't I what? Be proud of THIS?"

SLAM.  
A picture frame was thrown across the room and Hermione heard it shatter, along with a shriek of despair from her mother. Hermione's hands were balled into fists, shaking with rage. Suddenly, she slammed her fist into her vanity mirror. She gasped at her own rage, bringing her bleeding fist to face level. She reached down onto her desk and grasped a piece of glass, squeezing it tightly in her hands, more blood leaking from her palm. She placed it above her wrist, slowly slicing her skin. Her intent was to kill herself. She was only left in a mess of bloody sheets and tear stains, her skin not even splitting down to the vein. Since then, it had become an outlet for her. A release. But it was nothing like this.

She lay in her bed now, looking up at the ceiling. She made up her mind. She got up, and grabbed the compass. She slept in the same fashion as she did the night at her home. Bloodied sheets and a tear-stained pillow. Yet, no weight was lifted off her heart. She lay, crying into her pillow, grasping her arm, when suddenly,

BAM!

The door flew open and Draco fell face first into the room. He picked himself up and Hermione gasped, pulling herself up into a sitting position, wiping her tears away. He shook his head as the door closed behind him. He raised his eyes to Hermione, who was sitting, thunderstuck, above him.

"I knew I'd find you here."

"H-how'd you g-get in here?" she stammered, her eyes searching his face. He smirked slightly.

"If you try hard enough, you can find anyone here." his smirk suddenly dropped as well as his eyes to Hermione's arm. She looked down, blushing furiously, as he sat beside her. He took her arm tenderly in his hands, and looked it over. He sighed and looked at her. "I bet you want to know what happened in the hall this morning." she looked up at him, dreading what came next, but irresistibly curious.

"Well, yeh, I gues-"

"I love him."

Draco's eyes went wide at this and he looked to the ground, covering his mouth with his hand. Hermione stared at him for a moment.

"Well. I guess…uhm…wow." she shook her head. "I never knew."

"Well now you do." he looked up, and to her surprise, he gave Hermione a weak, pleading look. "Please. Don't tell anyone. If this gets out…"

"I won't, Draco. I won't. But, if this is how you feel, shouldn't you do what you feel is right?"

"No! No one can know. He'll be too embarrassed to tell anyone, so no, nobody will know. Besides, he'd never…he'd never be with me. He hates me." Draco hung his head and placed it in his hands. Hermione could only sit beside him and stroke his back, mulling over the events of the day. They stayed in that room that night, sleeping next to one another, Hermione only waking once to hear Draco crying.


	8. Addicted Pt2: Used

_AN: Ok. I made a lyer out of myself. Last time I told you this chapter was gonna be called Who I Am And Who I Ought To Be...but I found myself writing more for Addicted. And, w__ell…here it is. Another two-parter. Not unlike it's sibling chapter Obsessed, Addicted has two parts. Like I said with Bloodlust, it all has the same theme, I just wanted to separate the two stories. NEXT CHPATER IS AND I PROMISE WIAWIOTB! Fwaha...I have a short form for it! lalala..._

_And AGAIN! Thank you thank you to Starry Tain, "faithe"-ful reader, who likes me puns! HAHA GET IT FAITHE-FUL?...oh dearie me..I need to stop...  
Starry, this is for you. ._

**_Chapter Eight – Addicted Pt.2: Used_**

The next few days were a flurry of snowflakes and emotions, as Harry and Ron began noticing Hermione's absence in most of her classes, as well as Draco's. Ron had not spoken to Harry about their conversation from that night, though it still weighed heavily on Harry's mind. He felt no feelings for Draco, whatsoever. But it was apparent whenever Draco was around Harry, that he felt more than just hatred for the Harry. He looked on with lusting eyes that he thought would never been seen by anyone, though everyone within five feet could feel the vibe coming from Draco. Everyone, that is, but Ron.

"What do you think those two have been up to? Whenever she's not around, neither is he. Did'ja notice that, Harry?" Ron muttered over lunch one day, neither Hermione nor Draco were in sight.

"Oh no, I didn't, until you told me for the tenth time, Ron." Harry replied sarcastically, and Ron's ears turned pink. Harry had become very snippy when the subject turned to Draco, and Ron kept clear of that topic at all costs.

"D'you…d'you think she likes him, Harry?" he said meekly, giving Harry a timid look. Harry shot him a disbelieving glance.

"No way." He said with finality. Ron still looked unconvinced and as depressed as ever, so Harry took a stab, injuring his own ego, "Remember? He likes me." Though he wished he hadn't have said that, he was glad to see a smile spread across Ron's face and a laugh come from him. Only when Ron rolled down the hill laughing hysterically did Harry shoot a leg-locker curse at him, and Ron ended up spinning uncontrollably, into the lake. The words sunk in deeper when he said it, Harry thought, helping Ron out of the lake and drying him off with his wand. A piece of seaweed was strung across Ron's hair, though Harry neglected to tell him to take it off. He sat beneath their tree again, thinking of what he had said. It seemed true enough, that Draco had feelings for him. And he couldn't shake that feeling off, no matter how bad he wanted to.

"I'm going to find her." Ron said, and stood up. Harry muttered something about being right on, go for it, and I'm right behind you, but Ron marched into the castle alone, leaving Harry with his thoughts.

Ron marched into the castle, determined on finding Hermione. His only problem was, he had no clue where she was. He looked around frantically, standing in the Great Hall, hoping maybe the answer would pop out of the giant hourglasses standing before the doors, or a stature of a Wizard holding a small octopus, it's tentacles wrapping carefully around his neck. The statue was supposedly a secret passageway into the Janitorial cupboards throughout the school, or so he heard from Fred and George. He wondered how they even got to know all this stuff in the first place, when an idea struck him. He raced from the Hall up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, where Neville stood before the Fat Lady, looking quite anxious.

"Uhm…g-g-gillyweed?" Neville stammered, and the Fat Lady rolled her eyes. Neville looked around helplessly, until he spotted Ron sprinting up the stairs. "Ron!"

"Good Lord, child! Can't you remember anything? The password is not…"

Ron skidded to a halt in front of them both, and the Fat Lady sniffed, pointing her nose to the air.

"Oh thank goodness, Ron! I've forgotten the password aga-" but Ron merely pushed aside Neville, who's arms flailed wildly as he lost his footing and fell into a painting of Three penguins marching across a desert, being eyed hungrily by a nearby rattlesnake. The penguins squawked and the snake hissed, and Neville fell into a trembling heap on the floor.

"Firewhiskey!" Ron shouted, panting. The Fat Lady nodded, but didn't open up. "See, boy," she said, staring pointedly at Neville, "it's easy enough to remember, why can't you grasp tha-"

"LET ME IN YOU STUPID BINT!" Ron shouted, and the Fat Lady opened her mouth in shock, gave him a deadly glare, and swung open. As the portrait closed, it hit Ron in the behind and he fell onto his face, behind him a faint sniggering could be heard. Ron picked himself up and hurried up to the boys dorm. He burst through the door and ran straight to Harry's trunk, opening it quickly, and tearing the insides apart. He finally found what he was looking for, and bolted from the room, down the stairs, and through the portrait, opening it so suddenly, he knocked Neville, who was trying to get in, off his feet again. "Sorry!" Ron called behind his shoulder, and raced off.

Hermione was spending the afternoon in the Room of Requirement with Draco, though this visit was being cut short. Draco had a detention with Professor McGonagall that lunchtime, and he told this to a disappointed Hermione as he picked up his bag.

"It'll be the entire lunch, so don't expect me back." he said, looking at her crest-fallen face. He smiled and opened the door. Hermione tried to smile back, but she found it truly devastating when Draco left her. She had grown attached to him, even though it was for reasons she was ashamed of. He had aught her so much, how to conceal her cuts, how to use other objects to inflict harm. It was disgusting, and immoral, but Hermione couldn't seem to stop.

Hermione was twirling a razor between her fingers, watching Draco carefully. She had inherited his dark charm, rubbing off on her from his time around her. She had noticed, as well, that Draco was softer around her. Though she knew he wasn't changed at all, for she saw him relentlessly taunt a group of fourth years the day before, taking one of their wands and prodding them in the back with it. She hadn't stopped it, as her Prefect duties would've naturally inclined her to do, and she felt a twinge of guilt when she saw the small Ravenclaw girl in the hall the next day, purple spots all over the back of her robes spelling out the word "PRAT".

Draco now was looking at her carefully, and her eyes dropped, not meeting his gaze. He tilted his head to the side.

"How many is that today?" She looked up as he said this. His gaze was hard, strong, and unfaultered. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but didn't answer. "3 now?" he pressed on, and she nodded her head. She heard him take a little sigh, and she looked up. He bit his lower lip. "It's not a bad day, though, is it?"

"Every day is a bad day." She replied, giving him a wry grin.

"No. not what I meant, love." He walked over to her and squatted so his face was at her level. "A bad day is when you do it one, twice, maybe more, willing yourself to press harder each time, but every time you're balled up crying or shaking hoping this next one will be the last you'll ever have to do. That's a bad day." She lowered her gaze again, but ever so faithfully, his fingers reached under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. "Other days, ever single other day that's not a bad day," he smirked slightly, "is just one of those days when you just do it. Just to feel real. Or to feel how fucking numb to the pain you've become. Just to say you did it. It's a just day. Just 'cause." She swallowed hard and he stood, backing away from her slowly. "You're becoming worse than me, pet. Not quite, though."

"I'm more like you than you think." She said, narrowing her eyes. Draco shook his head.

"The difference between you and I, well, to be like me, you gotta' love it. You gotta make it part of you, it's a culture, it's not just a fad. You do it for reasons not even you yourself can comprehend, do it for reasons that no one will understand. That's when you'll be like me. When you do it for the thrill, for the taste. What's this, love? Giving me a look of contempt, are we? Well, tell me, are you like me?"

Hermione closed her eyes and looked away from him. She heard him move after a moment, the door open, and then close. What she didn't know, was that she was being watched. She was being watched as she lay back onto the bed, as she picked up her razor, and as she unrolled her sleeve. Only did she know she was being watched when her eyes came to rest upon the long red lines that laced her arm, and she heard a small gasp, a swish, and suddenly, Ron was standing beside her bed, the invisibility cloak and Marauders map in his hands. She gasped herself and pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"RON!" she cried, pulling her sleeve back down. But Ron was too quick for her this time. He grabbed her arm and pulled it up, staring down in disbelief at her scar and gash ridden arm. She looked away from him, as he stood, staring for a moment.

"Hermione." He said softly. She didn't look up. "Hermione." He said again, this time with a bit more force. She finally cast one eye towards him, tears leaking out. He knelt beside her and looked her in the face. She had never seen Ron as serious as he looked now. "What has happened to you?"

Draco walked slowly to his lunchtime detention, dragging his feet along the cobblestone floor. His mood had been low lately, ever since the mishap in the hall with Harry. How could he have been so stupid. Harry was sure to avoid him now. Not even being friends with Hermione could get Draco in. He's scared him off. He felt odd, thinking this. Hermione is his…friend? He didn't feel that close to her. But he felt the same thing in her as he suspected she did in him. They were the same, in some aspects. In others, most others, completely different. He turned the corner to climb the stairs, and standing before him was none other than,

"Harry!" he said in surprise, now face to face with the green eyed boy. Harry looked at him, his eyebrows raised slightly. "I mean, Potter." Draco cleared his throat and straightened himself out, his usual sneer sliding easily back onto his face, no hint of loving care in his voice. Harry slowly walked towards him, which was a matter of two steps. Draco was forced back into the landing of the stairwell.

"That's MR. Potter to you, Draco." Harry said in a low voice, prodding Draco with an extended index finger, pushing him into the wall behind him. Draco's mouth dropped open and he stared at Harry disbelievingly.

"What're you doing?" Draco asked, his breath becoming rapid as Harry moved closer to him. Harry's lips were already by Draco's ear when Draco said this. He leaned back, taking a look at him. "Are you flirting with me?" Harry's mouth worked open and close, a stutter coming from him. Draco watched him carefully for a moment, then threw Harry against the wall opposite to him, one hand reaching around and twisting into his raven hair, another slowly sliding down Harry's thigh. "_This_ is how you flirt, Potter." Draco growled low in his throat, and Harry stifled a gasp that had come up into his throat. Draco's hand was now in Harry's pants.

"I think they call this second base, not flirting, Malfoy." Harry said this name with as much lust as Draco has just used in his. It felt easy to speak to Draco this way, surprisingly. He had no clue what he was doing, though. Impulses took over. Whatever he was doing, though, Harry thought, he felt wild. He felt crazy. He felt good…he felt…loved.  
Needless to say, Draco missed his detention that afternoon. He and Harry stayed in the abandoned stairwell, but ended up in an abandonded classroom, and as Harry looked back on the events of that afternoon, he smiled in spite of himself. He was now lying on his stomach in the common room, twirling a quill in his hand, looking down at a spare piece of parchment that was supposed to be his Potions essay.

His stomach still jolted as he thought of Draco's hand (the one down his pants). A new feeling of a foreign hand sent Harry's spine tingling, his skin became filled with goose-pimples, and his head was involuntarily thrown back as Draco's fingers worked themselves around his manhood. His breathing quickened, and his heart raced as Draco's mouth closed around his neck, his skin surprisingly warm and soft. Harry felt his own hand come up to Draco's head, snaking his fingers through the silky blonde hair. His other hand met Draco's other hand, and their fingers interlocked. Draco slid their hands up the wall, above their heads, and Harry squeezed his hand hard as Draco's working fingers caused Harry to become hard. Draco smiled into Harry neck and then their mouths locked onto each other, Draco's tongue slowly sliding into Harry's, another new sensation for Harry, who took it gradually and responded with his own tongue.

Harry remembered how Draco's arms slithered around his waist, and he pulled him into the hall, looking around. They found the empty classroom and walked in together, Harry giggling as Draco kicked the door closed with his foot. As soon as they entered the room, Draco had Harry against another wall, his mouth sliding down to Harry's collarbone. Harry gasped as Draco undid his belt, then looked up to face Harry. Harry's eye met his and Draco grinned.

"Do you love me?" Harry asked, staring into the grey eyes that were now warm and shining.

"Oh Gods, do I…" Draco whispered, resting his forehead against Harry's. Harry felt his hunger for Draco grow, and his eyes closed.

"Do you want to?" he asked, and Draco looked at him, surprised.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and Harry opened his eyes, the green gleaming in the dull light from the white light coming into the windows. Draco sighed and smiled. He took another breath, and dropped Harry's pants, going straight to undoing his own. Harry reached down, slowly stroking Draco's penis into hardness. Draco tilted his head back, his body still pressed against Harry's. Harry then slowly rotated Draco, his back from the wall. He slowly leaned over a desk, taking a breath. He heard Draco pull out his wand and mutter a spell. Harry kept his head down. He had no clue wha he was doing here, why he was doing this. He tried to relax, but his tense muscles kept twitching, half with anxiety; half with excitement. And then, Draco entered him. Harry gasped and his head flew back, and he heard Draco let out a moan. Harry had never felt such wonderful pain in his life. It hurt like hell, he had to admit, but the slow motion of Draco's hips, and Draco's soft voice saying, "You alright, love?" calmed him. Harry nodded, and winced as Draco pulled out slightly, gasping. Draco pushed in again, harder this time so that Harry had to step forward slightly. Harry felt a groan escape his lips, and Draco whispered, "I love you…"

Now, Harry was left with his thoughts in the common room. Draco had earned another detention for missing this one, but he walked out of McGonagalls office with a smile on his face. One last kiss and he left Harry at his last class, them having missed one of their afternoon classes. Harry smiled all day, and barely even noticed when neither Ron nor Hermione showed up for their classes.

AN: Harry's an awful flirt job, ain't he? HAHA…I HATE HARRY…absolutely, no lie. I have ever since the books came out. HATE HIM HATE HIM. So it's great making him look like a prat. Mwahaha…but there, Isi. You're beloved smut. nod Hope I did well by you. Haha.


	9. Who I Am And Who I Ought To Be

_**Chapter Nine - Who I Am And Who I Ought To Be**_

Days passed and Christmas was approaching at full speed, and Harry finally noticed that Ron and Hermione seemed to be distant. Not only from him, but also from each other. The euphoria from his latest romp with Draco has worn off and Harry was no plummeting back down into the world of the living, and into the prospect of facing a new problem. Ron seemed to twinge every time Hermione reached across him to grab a roll at dinner, and Hermione seemed eager to change the subject once it fell upon her. Harry decided it was time to investigate.

"What's up with you two?" he asked, eyeing them suspiciously one night in the common room as Hermione had went to pull Ron's essay towards her for proofreading, and Ron jumped so bad his ink bottle flew off the table and onto Crookshanks, who was sleeping below. Harry watched in horror, but slight amusement as Crookshanks sunk his claws into Ron's leg and clawed his way up his leg, Ron jumping from his chair and flailing madly. Hermione bent over and grabbed Crookshanks around his middle, but was greeted with flying claws. Crookshanks claws caught her hand, and she pulled back, gasping. Shining red streaks appeared on her hand, and she examined her hand, gingerly running a finger over the scratches. Ron finally pried the mad animal loose from his leg, and rushed to Hermione's side. He looked down at her hand, his eyes glazing over, as Hermione bustled on.  
"It's nothing, Crookshanks does this all the time. It's no big deal." she smiled at Harry who returned it with a nod, then turned to Ron. Ron was still staring at her hand, then his eyes travelled up her arm and he took in a breath. He shot his gaze to Hermione's face, and she scoffed. "Honestly, Ron!" With that Hermione hurried up to the girls dorms, slamming the door behind her. Ron carefully picked up the ink bottle and threw it onto the table. Harry watched knocked for six at what had just happened, as Ron slowly made his way over to the chairs beside the fire, and slumped down into them. He stared into the fire, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening. Harry shook his head and watched Ron carefully.

"What was that about?" Harry asked, emphasizing the word "that". Ron didn't asnwer, but merely shrugged and kept staring into the fire. "You know, if you do that for too long, you're eyeballs will dry out and shrivel up…"

"She cuts herself." Ron said in a monotonous voice. Harry stopped breathing for a second. What was this all about? He was sure he hadn't heard Ron properly.

"What-"

"She. Cuts. Herself. With a razor. And God knows what else." Ron said, finally looking over to Harry. Harry's mouth had dropped open and he was gaping helplessly at Ron. Ron sighed and looked back into the fire.

"How do you kn-"

"I saw her. Her and Malfoy, in the Room of Requirement. That's where she's been all this time. If you haven't noticed." He rolled his eyes at this and sighed again. Harry closed his mouth angrily and furrowed his brow.

"What the hell is that suppo-"  
"You know exactly what I me-"

"WILL YOU STOP CUTTING ME OFF FOR GODS SAKES!" Harry bellowed, and Ron closed his own mouth, looking down at the threadbare rug. Harry huffed, and sat back into his chair. It was true that he hadn't been spending as much time with Hermione and Ron as usual. His time was mostly filled with thoughts of Draco. And…visits…with Draco. He had found the boy irresistible after the first day with him, and also found himself going back for more. The last time was the night before, when he had crept out of his bed in the middle of the night with the invisibility cloak (which he found strewn across his bed, for some odd reason. "Why the hell is this here?" he wondered aloud, as he threw back his sheets. Ron, who was sitting on his bed across from Harry's turned red and pulled the covers over his own head, shutting the sheets around him tightly.). He had found Draco milling about the Prefects bathroom, in which Harry had once been himself. The large swimming pool sized bathtub was still there, as was the portrait of the primping mermaid who, that night, got more than a free show.

Draco was sitting with his feet dangling into the half empty bath, the taps running softly and fragrant bubble bath also poured from the silver spouts, as the door creaked open. Harry slowly snuck in, stopping only once as Draco turned his head slightly at the echoing noise Harry's shoe made. Harry held his breath and smiled slightly as Draco returned to his daydreaming. Harry made his way towards Draco and slowly slid his hand over his shoulder, and down his chest. Draco gasped slightly, turning sharply. His lips met a pair of familiar ones, Harry's cloak had slid down around his waist. Draco smiled into Harry's, who's hands moved down to Draco's waist. Not a word was spoken as Harry tumbled gracelessly onto the ceramic tiled floor, and Draco literally jumped on top of him. Draco growled low into his throat, which brought a giggle from Harry. Draco kissed him passionately again.

"Mmm…I knew you'd find me." Draco purred between kisses.

"Well, you gave me directions."

"Mmm…" was Draco's response as he slid his hands under Harry's shirt, pulling it over his head. Harry did the same, their lips only parting when Draco's shirt passed between them. Harry's heart was racing again, the old feeling coming back. He had waited for this moment, it was like a high he kept craving. And every time he got his fix, he was always craving more. He felt nothing towards the boy on top of him, the one unbuttoning his pants, the one sliding his hands down his boxer shorts. Harry felt nothing that Draco did, as he threw back his head and groaned, Draco licking his lips and lowering his head towards Harry's chest. Harry cracked one eye open, to see the mermaid blushing furiously. He smirked and ran his fingers through Draco's hair as the blonde head slowly kissed lower and lower until he reached his destination.

The echoing room proved difficult to keep quiet in. If someone had walked in, they would've heard Harry before they saw the two boys, half naked, sprawled across the floor. They would've smelled the bubble bath that was slowly filling the pool with pink bubbles. They both ended up into the bath, Harry's head resting upon the floor behind him as he floated in the water. Draco swam from one end of the pool to the other, and ended up beside Harry, sloshing water as his arms wrapped around Harry's neck. Harry smiled slightly, and looked over to him. He felt nothing. He felt nothing. He kept trying to remind himself that this, this was exploiting. Harry had finally put a name to his emotion. This was a new emotion, it wasn't love, it wasn't feeling anything towards Draco. It was lust, driven by lust for self-gain. He felt no remorse as Draco snuggled his face into Harry's neck, knowing that if this boy were to ever find out, it'd hurt him badly. Harry was half expecting that outcome. What he never expected was,

"What're those?" he asked, peering over to Draco's arms. Draco looked up at Harry, then to where he was staring. He sighed and dropped his eyes to the pink bubbles collecting around his chest. Harry took his arm, and pulled it close to his face. Bright red lines were vibrant and contrastive against the lily-white skin of the boy next to him. Harry felt a lump in his throat. "Draco?" his voice, to Harry's surprise and horror, had a twinge of hurt in it, a twinge of caring, of hysteria. He was worried.

"It's…God…I've never had a hard time telling anyone this…" Draco pulled his arm away and leaned against the side of the pool. "I'm a self-mutilator, Harry."

"You're a cutter?" Harry asked, bluntly. Draco winced. Ever since he started he hated the word. It was dirty, it was harsh, it was real, and raw. It tasted like dirt every time the words escaped his own lips, is seared like flames every time the word met his own ears. He was more comfortable with it now, though he wouldn't admit that inside he still cringed every time the word was used. Hearing Harry say these words made it ten times worse. Harry saw this small motion, and put a hand on Draco's arm, pulling it up through the water again. He took a good look at it, then slowly ran a finger over the longest cut. Draco winced slightly, and Harry quickly pulled his finger away. "Does it hurt?" Draco shook his head slightly, and Harry, gazing down at his arm again, softly kissed his scars. This was the first jolt Harry had gotten, his stomach plummeting into darkness and his heart leaping into his throat. It was the first of many feelings to come that he had towards Draco. It was unnerving.

Harry snapped out of his daze, and looked back to Ron, who was frowning deeply. The rest of the night was spent with Harry coaxing Ron into telling him what had happened. Ron retold his story, and the two boys sat, in silence, each thinking his own thoughts. Only when Harry looked over to Ron to find him with his chin on his hand, drooling over his sleeve did he shake him gently and they both traipsed up to bed. Not five minutes later, Hermione had snuck down from the girls room, unaware at how close she was to being found by Harry and Ron. She tip-toed to the portrait door and slipped out quietly. The Fat Lady snorted and gave Hermione an angry look as she passed, and Hermione made her way down the dark stairways to the Room of Requirement. She paced along the hallway, stopping when the dark black door materialized, the shining cast-iron handle gleaming in a soft candlelight. She pushed open the door, finding it empty. Sighing, Hermione walked slowly over to the bed, the door closing loudly behind her, making her jump. She dropped down onto the bed, the smell of incense greeting her nostrils. She flashed back to the night before, when she had met with Draco again, reliving the tale that Ron had just told Harry, only from her side.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Draco asked. He was sitting leisurely in a large red velvet chair, whilst Hermione lay on the bed, her shirt pulled up so that it lay over her chest, her stomach exposed. A shining razor lay on her abdomen, the candlelight casting shadows across Draco's face as he watched Hermione's hand slowly make it's way up to it. She took in a breath and nodded. "Love, there are other places. Weasley checks your arms now, you say? What a git…wait." He said, a bit louder, as Hermione picked up the razor. Draco moved gracefully from his perch on the chair to the beside, slowly looking Hermione over. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, and Hermione shot him an annoyed look. Draco shrugged. "It is. Look, move your hand." Hermione did so, patiently. She had learned to listen to what Draco had to say, and though sometimes she didn't agree or understand it, he was intriguing. "Are you sure you want this, love?" he asked in a low voice. Hermione was startled by the sombre tone he had, his eyes not meeting hers. She sighed, and put a hand to her face.

"I can't do it on my arms anymore, you know that." she said quietly. Draco clucked his tongue, and she shot him an angry glance.

"Oh who gives a rats ass what Ron thinks? Who cares what they all think…" he drifted off, staring blankly at the velvet cushions that were strewn over the bed. Hermione peered curiously into his face. He shook his head slightly and sighed. "All I'm saying is that, love, it's like…well…a disease. If you spread it, if it spreads, it could go out of control. Then you won't be able to stop. It'll consume you. Are you willing to give up everything?" he glanced up at her, and smiled at the frightened look on her face. "Not so much like me as you think you are, are you?"

Draco got up slowly, and walked to the door.  
"I'll give you time, love. Think about it. Is it worth it? Hiding isn't going to make things any better. If Ron's got such a problem, let him deal with it." And with that, Draco opened the door quietly and left Hermione lying on the bed, alone. He stopped when he heard her stifle a sob. 

Now Hermione sat on the large bed, automatically putting a hand to her stomach. She had gone against his wishes, and now Hermione felt jolts of pain whenever she moved. Pulling the pillow beside her up to her chest, she placed her head on it and closed her eyes, wondering where Draco was at this moment.

Draco was thinking of Hermione as well as he made his way down to the dungeons, humming lightly to himself. He stepped down into the cold halls before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and slowed his pace. His ears picked up a small sound, and his foot that he had lifted to take a step stopped in the air. He listened carefully for a moment, then spun around, only to be face to face with,

"Father…" he breathed, looking to the ground, smirking. "I thought you were.."

"Someone else?" his father whispered, and Draco looked up at him, wondering why his tone was no more than a hiss. His father's eyes were gleaming, though no light was near them, the only torch behind him in the landing above.  
"Father?" Draco said, unnerved by the deadly sound in his father's voice. "What's this about-"

"Perhaps your faggot of a lover? Potter? Hmm?" Lucius took a step forward, his black dragon-hide boots making a soft thud, his robs swishing slightly in the cold air. Draco took a step back as his father advanced slowly.

"Dad, what? No, no Father…" Draco said, his voice cracking slightly, cowering, tripping over his own robes as he was backed into a corner.

"I cannot, and will not, tolerate this in my family, Draco. You know this. It's not normal. It's sick, it's disgusting."  
"No, no no!" Draco shook his head, tears sliding down his face. His fathers hand shot out and grabbed Draco by the chin, pulling his face up to look at him.  
"You're sick, and unnatural. I should've known. Luckily, Mr. Zabini's father, Cortez, informed me. We need to fix this, don't we, Draco? Don't we-"  
"I love him, Father!" Draco closed his eyes tight, and Lucius stopped his advance on his son. His eyes narrowed. Suddenly, Draco felt himself being hit rapidly and repeatedly with Lucius's wand. His skin tore, his flesh singed, and he was left in a sobbing heap on the floor. A foot connected with his stomach, and he heard a rib crack loudly. The breath escaped him instantly, and he gasped for air, clutching his chest. Lucius looked down at the beaten boy, and spit on him.  
"I have no son." he said quietly. He then walked away from the quivering mass that was Draco. As the footsteps died away, Draco pushed himself up, shuddering and sobbing, cradling his arm and breathing raggedly. He tried to get to his feet, and his feet slipped on the stone floor, and he landed on his back again. He let out a gasp of pain, and a shout of anger, until he finally hoisted himself up, and hobbled out of the hall.

It took longer than usual to get to the Room, and Draco nearly collapsed as he slid along the wall to the door, which appeared instantly and the door burst open, magically. His fingers slowly met the doorframe, and curled around it, pulling his body towards the opening. Inside, a curious but frightened looking Hermione sat, her legs curled into her chest, on the bed. Her eyes widened as she watched Draco literally drag himself into the room. She jumped from the bed and went to grab his shoulder as his limp body onto the ground. A groan escaped his lips, and Hermione gasped.

"Oh my God, Draco, what happened? Who did this?" Hermione's voice got higher as she looked frantically around the room, Draco slung over one of her arms. She finally got him pulled over to the bed, and she propped him up beside it, his back leaning against the frame. Draco took another gasping breath, and Hermione covered her mouth, sitting down beside him, her eyes still wide and shocked.  
"He knows…my father, he knows." Draco finally gasped out, clutching his chest, which was barely rising. Hermione shook her head.  
"Knows? About what? You're father did this to you?"  
"Harry," Draco sobbed, tears running thickly down his face, "oh God, Harry…" Hermione suddenly had a look of realization on her face. After a moment, Draco regained his breath, and Hermione sat silently beside him. She jumped slightly when Draco stood, on his own, and walked slowly over to the door, which was still wide open. He grasped the handle and shut it, the sound loud, and empty. Hermione looked up at him, his back was to her. She got a chill down her spine, and stood up.  
"Draco?" she said quietly. Draco didn't move. She took one step towards him, and suddenly he turned around. Hermione put a hand to her chest and breathed out, shaking slightly. "Are you alright?" she said slowly, but he didn't look at her. He merely stared at the floor. "Draco? Come on, you're freaking me out." No response. She took another step towards him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Draco, are you-"  
Without warning, Draco had grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off him. Hermione looked in horror as he raised his face to look at her, his eyes no longer leaking tears, but were puffy and bloodshot. He pushed her backwards so that she fell onto the bed, but slid off the smooth velvet blanket and onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud. Hermione whimpered as she hit the floor, and made a move to get up, but Draco had straddled her and held her pinned to the side of the bed, as he was just moments ago. Hermione gasped and looked, terrified, into his face again. Wild hurt and mayhem was in his eyes, but also, maniacal determination. Hermione's own eyes were now filling with tears, as Draco's grip became tighter and tighter whenever she squirmed to get away. She couldn't seem to get words out of her mouth, but she tried relentlessly to get away, eventually knocking Draco off her, with a loud cry. She scrambled desperately, her fingernails scratching along the wooden floor as Draco grabbed her leg and pulled her towards him, turning her to face him in the process. Her head hit the floor with a loud crack, and she cried out in pain, sobbing gently as Draco's hand reached around her throat, the other moving down towards her pants. In that moment, Hermione knew what he was about to do. Only seconds later, did she know why.  
"Draco STOP! No! NO! Stop! Stop, please…" she sobbed out, struggling to keep Draco's hands away from her, the boy advancing with unusual strength and power. "…please! God PLEASE! Draco, PLEASE stop! PLEASE…stop! Please…please…" she sobbed quietly into her hands, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Is this what you WANT! IS THIS WHO I SHOULD BE!" Draco screamed out, but Hermione knew it was not to her. She tried one last time and kicked out, hard, and felt her foot hit his chest, knocking him backward into a small table that held a few books and a lamp. The books toppled onto the ground and the lamp crashed, the pieces scattering and making tinkling sounds along the floor. Her eyes still closed, Hermione dreaded the next attack, but when she felt nothing, she slowly, cautiously, took her hands away from her face. She only heard deep breathing coming from the direction of the table. Slowly, Hermione sat herself up, wincing slightly and placing a hand on the back of her head. Her gaze drifted over to Draco, who sat, his back to the wall, staring at Hermione. He furrowed his brow deeply, and screwed up his face. Hermione backed up from him, her breathing ragged and laboured. She watched as Draco looked from her to the ground, then to his own hands. Tears welled in his eyes and fell down the flushed cheeks which were now draining of their colour and into a sickly white. He cried gently into his hands, curling up into a ball. Hermione hesitated, then slowly slid over to him. They sat, Draco still wrapped in a tight fetal-position, Hermione slowly putting a hand on his back, which was jumping and twitching from his uncontrollable sobs. She slowly bent lower, and placed her head on his, and her own tears rolled gently down the blonde head.


	10. Withdrawal

_**AN**: Thanks Isi, JettHead, Lady Knight and Isi! I'm glad you enjoyed that last chapter. And Isi, just read / you'll find out what happens to Harry now...****_

Chapter Ten - Withdrawal

Christmas morning dawned, the Hogwarts grounds blanketed heavily by the thick white snow that swirled violently outside the boy's dorm. Harry had awoke early, even for Christmas morning, and the rest of the boys were still asleep, Neville muttering softly and Ron snoring loudly. Harry watched the snowflakes fall outside his window as he pulled on a pair of bright green socks from Dobby, ones with a star pattern, and one of the only normal, or matching, pair of socks he's ever received from the house-elf. He looked around the room, making sure he hadn't waken any of the others, and slowly made his way to the common room. He passed a snoozing Crookshanks, who was curled up in front of the stairway towards the girls dorm, and Harry wondered why Hermione had not taken him up to her room. The notion that she had not been in her room didn't come upon him until he crept through the portrait door, the Fat Lady grumbling about students being up at all hours, waking her here and there. The chilly halls got even colder as he made his way down to the dungeons, and he stopped before the hallway to the Slytherin common room. He didn't know why he was there; maybe to see Draco again, maybe to try and get rid of the sinking feeling in his stomach that he couldn't seem to shake. The feeling that he knew what he was doing was wrong. Or the feeling that he actually felt anything towards Draco.

He shivered, pulling his robes tighter around him, when he noticed something on the ground, in the corner. Curiosity got the best of him, though he knew better than to pick up stray objects around the castle, like Tom Riddle's diary, or the stray piece from a chess set he found a week ago, which promptly set sire to his pocket and escaped through the hole. But when he picked up the object, he was surprised at what it was. It was a wand, sleek and black, shining dully in the candlelight. But it was also broken in half. Harry wondered why someone would just toss aside their wand, even if it was a bit bent. He moved out of the dungeon hall and into the better lit corridor. The wand looked expensive and well taken care of, and Harry pondered as to why a well kept wand would be snapped so carelessly, when he heard a small sound. Harry froze, his head jerking up to listen. It sounded like sharp footsteps along the ground, coming around the corner, straight towards…him. Harry dove behind a large statue of a tall, slender man with a snake around his neck. He dared himself to breath as the footsteps got louder, eventually ending up in the hall. He stayed perfectly still as the footsteps seemed to take forever just to walk down the corridor. They stopped, in front of the statue, and the person let out an angry growl, then walked past. Harry peered around the statue, hoping to catch a glimpse of who was walking by. But no one appeared. Puzzled, Harry stood and made his way around the statue.  
"Potter." a voice hissed, and Harry found himself being dragged by his hair into the dungeons again. Harry only saw the silvery wisps of hair float above his head and right away he knew who it was.  
"Gerroff, Malfoy! Dumbledore will have you for thi-"  
"Dumbledore will do no such thing. He will not know of this. You want to know why I'm so sure, Potter?" Lucius stopped dragging Harry and pulled him into the corner, bending over to come face to face with Harry, his gloved hand still grasping Harry's hair. Harry gasped in pain, running his hand up to his head, trying to pry the strong fingers off, but to no avail. He hung there limply as Lucius got closer towards him, his breath hot on Harry's face. "Because Draco won't tell him. No he won't say or do anything if he wants to come home this year." Harry's eyes went wide at the mention of Draco's name.  
"Did you hurt him?" he asked, pleadingly. Lucius replied with a sharp shake of Harry's head, Harry would feel some hairs being pulled out of his scalp.  
"And you, my boy, you won't say anything, because dead men…can't…speak." Lucius's hand went down slowly to Harry's mouth, and Harry squirmed again, trying to free himself. Harry finally got his mouth free enough to speak, and choked out,  
"He's nothing to me!" Lucius stopped at this, and looked down at Harry through squinted eyes.  
"What?"  
"He means nothing! I don't feel a thing for that faggot!" Harry struggled again to get our of Lucius's grip, and he finally was able to slide from his grasp. Lucius looked down at him and grimaced.  
"Then what's this I hear of you being with my son? You filthy little things romping around the castle doing Lord knows what."  
"Rumours. Or, most of them. I have been getting closer to your son. But who wouldn't? You're one of the most powerful wizarding families, are you not? There's much you know that others would die for. Secrets, information."  
"You're a spy?"  
"You can call me that." Harry rubbed the back of his head. "Since you seem to let any type of information float about into your son's head, it'd be easy enough to snuggle up and see if I can work it out of him." Harry suppressed giggling in spite of himself at the use of this analogy.  
"You mean to tell me you'll give any information, not that I doubt you have any, to Dumbledore?"  
"Yes, sir." Harry nodded and smirked slightly. "You're rethinking what you spill around your boy now, eh?" Lucius gave him a dreadful look and spat at his feet. Harry stood slowly, shakily, and Lucius followed his moves, every twitch of a muscle, every blink of his eyes. He scoffed,  
"You know nothing, Potter. Now, if you're through using my son, I suggest you stay away from him. You'll learn nothing, and tell that to your sick Headmaster as well." And with that, Lucius strode out of the hall, leaving Harry to himself. What neither he nor Lucius knew was that someone was listening in to what Harry was saying. Draco and Hermione had slowly made their way down to the dungeons to get Draco to his dorm, and the two were frozen on the spot at the sound of Lucius's voice. But Draco felt his knees weaken, and his body slumped onto the floor as he heard Harry reveal his secret to his father. Hermione watched helplessly as the poor boy sank to his knees and stared at the floor, the night's action still slowly sucking the energy from him.  
Harry made his way out of the dungeons, still rubbing his head, and saw the sight of the weeping boy. Harry ran to the boy's side and lifted his chin up, softly kissing his forehead, then his pale lips, which were trembling. He put and arm around him and held him close, whispering it would be ok in his ear.  
This was Harry's first reaction when he saw Draco on the floor, crying. But it's not what he did. He had realised that Draco and Hermione, who was giving him a steely gaze, had heard his conversation with Lucius. Harry could only watch as the small boy cried gently into his hands, and Hermione shot disgusted looks from his side. Harry watched helplessly as Hermione went to pick Draco up, finally standing with him, her arm wrapped around his. Draco had stopped crying, and now was staring at Harry with daggers in his eyes. Harry's mouth gaped, not knowing what to say. As Hermione slowly walked Draco down into the dungeons, he looked back at Harry once more and Harry felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. Whatever hatred he had, vanished, as with the lies he had told Lucius just moments before. All of the feeling he never had for Draco came flooding back into his head, and he felt the knot in his stomach tighten, as the one thing that meant anything to him in the whole world, looked back and walked away.

The day went by slowly, Hermione spent the morning with Draco in the dorm, both of them calloused to the strange looks they got from other Slytherins who walked by Draco's bed. Hermione sat in front of Draco, who was staring blankly out the window.  
"Look, Draco, a gift from," Hermione glanced down at the package she had picked up from the end of the bed, which was wrapped in green paper and tied with a silver bow, "your mother!"  
"It means nothing now. He doesn't want me." Draco said sadly, still staring out the window.  
"I was talking about your mother, not your father, Draco."  
"I was talking about Harry, not my father, Hermione." Draco hit her name with a singe in his voice, and Hermione looked down at her shoes. "Nothing means a thing now. He doesn't want me. He never did."  
"It's not reason to stop everything." Hermione said slowly, trying to catch Draco's eye. "Or maybe it is." Hermione took Draco's hand and put it in her own, squeezing it tightly. "We'd be so much happier if shadows didn't hang over our heads, Draco." This time, Hermione touched Draco's chin, lifting it to look at her. "We can do this, together. We don't need this."  
At first, Draco was confused, but then he realised what Hermione meant. She slowly moved her hand to her pocked, pulling out her razor, and Draco reached over to his desk, doing the same. The razor's lay on the bed, shining in the new mornings sun and the snow's windowsill's glare. Draco's hand had not left Hermione's and he squeezed tightly, receiving it back even tighter. Hermione took out her wand, (for Draco was lacking one) and waved it over the two razors, which vanished into thin air. Draoc let out a long breath and closed his eyes.  
"We'll do it," Hermione whispered, pulling him into a hug, "together."

Hermione cursed those words that came out of her mouth that next night. She was huddled up in her bed, shaking like mad. Her hands trembled as she pulled her sheets up high, wiping tears from her eyes, some stray tears leaking out and falling softly into her hair. She had never felt such pain in her life, her body was convulsing, her chest hurt from sobbing into her pillow. She repeated over and over that it was all in her mind, but her body wouldn't let go. She spent a sleepless night in her own self, but not a shining razor touched her skin.

Harry spent his sleepless night alone as well, laying on his bed, fully clothes. His heart ached after seeing Draco break like that, and he closed his eyes only to find images of Draco in his mind, the words he said to Lucius, the lies that spilled out of him. Though of course, they weren't lies at first, the only lie was him and Draco. But as time went on, Harry felt his heart grown fond of the blonde haired boy. Now it killed him to know that he had hurt him badly. And that Lucius had hurt Draco more because of him. Harry suddenly felt a tear run down his cheek, and he wiped it away angrily, shrugging a blanket onto his shoulders, and wishing that the warmth from the blanket, which was oddly cold, was from that same boy whom he had broken that very day.


	11. Death of My Lover

_**Chapter Eleven - Death of My Lover**_

_AN: I feel so extremely happy that I'm getting reviews! Thank you everyone. A special thanks to Kaimei for their numerous reviews, and adding a bit of a smile to my face with the description "_The Boy-Who-Lived being shagged into a wall by the Prince of Slytherin." I love it.

_Also, thank you to JettHead, who, as they have stated before, doesn't exactly agree on the sexual orientation of the character, yet still adds me to their favourites and continues to review! Thank you! THANK YOU EVERYONE! It means the world to open my inbox and find out that people appreciate my work._

The cold winds whipped the already raw faces of the Hogwarts students trudging down the hill into Hogsmede for their holiday trip. The usual track of three sets of footprints were only two, and Harry and Ron found themselves, once again, Hermione-less. Harry had neglected, purposely, telling Ron what had happened. He felt awful enough having those lies spew from him once, he didn't need to relive it. Ron was unusually quiet that day, and Harry eyed him cautiously as they opened a heavy wooden door, the warmth from inside The Three Broomsticks smothering their frozen faces, thawing them enough so their fingers untwined from clenching their scarves over their mouths. Ron stared straight ahead, not noticing Harry's unbroken gaze. They two boys made their way to a small table in the corner of the room, and Harry watched, perplexed, as Ron sat, as stiff and silent as the dead, his eyes fixed on his hands, which were fumbling with his cloak clasp.

"Earth to Ronald." Harry said loudly, and Ron looked up, his expression shocked, as though he hadn't noticed he was sitting at a table with someone. Harry sighed and pulled off his gloves. "What's with you today?"  
"I could ask the same of you." Ron said slowly, not looking Harry in the eye. Harry wasn't aware that his actions were giving off the aura of someone distressed. He merely sighed and placed his chin into his hand.  
"Have you seen Hermione lately?" Ron asked, still not looking at Harry. Harry's stomach dropped at the inevitable question. Hermione and Draco had not come on the trip this time, and he was sure he knew why. The days after the incident with Lucius left Harry high and dry, alone, and he received scathing looks from both Hermione and Draco in the halls. "She was with _him_, wasn't she?" Ron said the word _him _with such distain that Harry had to look up. An ugly look spread across Ron's face. He clenched his fists. "What does she see in him? What does _anyone _see in him?"  
"I don't think she feels for him, Ron. He's not like that anyways." Harry said quietly, and Ron shot him a stinging glance.  
"Not like what?" his eyes went wide suddenly, and Harry thought, for a moment, that he knew about Draco and him. But Ron only shoved his hat back onto his fiery red head, and stood up, knocking his chair back. Harry got up as well, shocked.  
"Ron?"  
"I know. I finally know why. Why she…and he…" Ron shook his head vigorously and flecks of water that had melted from snowflakes flew from his earflaps, and Harry squinted, the water spattering his glasses.  
"Know WHAT Ron!" Harry said again, but by that time, Ron was out the door into the freezing winter wind again. Harry thought for a second to go after him, but he only sat back at the table and ordered a butter beer. Left to his own thoughts, Harry sunk into a daze, the soft clatter around him lulling him into a day dream.

Hermione sat in a similar daze, her head resting in her hand, her elbow propped up on a library book. Her grades had slipped dramatically, and she was struggling with her Potions essay that was due tomorrow. She looked down at her watch and to the Library door. Draco was supposed to be meeting her, since neither of them wanted to go to Hogsmede. But it was half past 1 and he was yet to be seen. She decided to wait a bit longer, but after ten minutes decided she would go look for him herself. There were only a few places where he could be, which sounded odd considering the size of the castle. She closed her book, knowing she would probably never get back to her homework, and shoved her quill and parchment into her bag. She walked hurriedly out of the library in sear of her missing friend.

"You alright, 'Arry?" a gruff voice and rougher hand shook Harry from his daze, and he looked up to see Hagrid standing above him. He stared up at him blearily, and realised his glasses her slightly askew from being shaken awake. He fixed them and stood up, wiping the melted snow off his neck.  
"Yeah, Hagrid. Thanks."  
"Yeh sure? I jus' saw Ron runnin' up the steps t'the castle when I left. Was yellin' something' about bein' like him? Like who, Harry?" Hagrid wrung his hands and gave Harry a quizzical look from beneath his bushy brow. Harry stood up wearily and threw his scarf over his shoulder.  
"I better go see to him," he gave Hagrid a wry grin, "make sure he doesn't kill himself."  
"Yeh, righ'." Hargrid grinned back and clapped Harry on the shoulder again. Harry, after recovering from his knees almost giving way under the weight of Hagrid's hand, walked quickly out of the bar and into the cold again. What could Ron be rambling on about now? He thought, as he trudged up to the castle, alone.

Finally, he got to the castle door, pushing it open. He just hoped that in his search for Ron, he wouldn't run into,  
"Draco…" Harry stopped in his tracks, after seeing the young blond standing in the middle of the foyer. Draco didn't even look at Harry. He was staring at something else. Harry followed his gaze and saw that he was watching Ron, who stood, in a stance to fight, his wand at the ready. A small whimper from his right brought Harry's attention to Hermione who stood in the stairwell, watching with wide eyes.  
"What the hell is your problem, Weasel?" Draco sneered, wrinkling his nose at Ron. Ron's wand was trembling in his hand.  
"You…I won't let you take her. No, not you." Ron said, his voice quaking like his hand. Hermione covered her face with her hands and squeaked. Harry saw Draco's hand move to his pocket, but then remembered the broken wand he had found in the dungeons. It must've been Draco's. A flicker of fear flashed across Draco's face when he realised this as well, but he continued to stare Ron down.  
"What? Hermione? And me?" Draco said in a steady, low voice, "Wrong, you stupid git. If you had a brain in that ginger nob of yours, you'd know it wasn't Hermione and me."  
"What? But you…" Ron looked from Hermione to Draco, and then a look of realisation came upon his face. It turned paler than normal, and he turned to Harry, his eyes wide. "you?" he said quietly.  
"Unfortunately." Draco growled. Harry winced at this and looked away from Ron. Ron lowered his wand and Draco un-tensed.  
"I don't believe you." Ron said angrily, and turned to Hermione. "What is it you see in him? What is it? Is it this, Hermione?" Ron rolled up his sleeve as Hermione watched in horror.  
"Ron, what are you-"  
"Is THIS WHAT YOU WANT, Hermione! WHAT CAN I DO?" Ron flicked his wand and placed it onto the white skin on his forearm, slowly raking the wand from the crook of his elbow to his wrist. Hermione gasped and Draco watched in terror, his eyes wide. Harry couldn't move, he could only watch as red blood spilled quickly from his best friend's arm. Ron looked as though he was going to be sick, staring down at the his now stained robes and arm. He turned a sickly green, and dropped his wand. "Huh." he muttered, softly, before the pale green turned to sheet white, and Ron's body fell limply to the floor. Hermione rushed over to him and rolled him onto his back.  
"RON! RON NO! PLEASE NO, RON!" she pulled him close to her by his robes, her fingers grabbing frantically, slipping on the bloodied material. Draco seemed paralysed, and Harry finally got the courage to move. But he merely stood over his friend's body, staring down at his wide eyes, which were brimming with tears. And there, in Hermione's arms, Harry watched his best friend die.


	12. Never Have You, Nor Ever Will You

_**Chapter Twelve – Never Have You, Nor Ever Will You**_

Draco broke his paralysis and moved slowly towards the group. Harry felt his eyes welling up with tears, and was barely aware of the stifled sobs from Hermione below him. Ron's body quivered with her own, limp and dangling. Hermione grabbed at his arm frantically, her fingers slipping with the blood, which was still softly trickling from his arm.

"Ron…Ron, please!" she cried, her hands becoming redder and redder from her friends blood, her robes shining and drenched. But no response came from Ron. His face was a sickly green, fading into pale. His eyes were still wide open and staring. Harry finally tore his eyes away from him, and turned to Draco, who looked terrified.

"Dear God, what have I done?" he whispered.

"You didn't do anything. It was-"

"Me." Hermione said softly, and they both turned to her. She still clutched Ron tightly in her arms, tears drying on her face. Draco gently put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hermione, it wasn't your fault. He was confused. If anything, I should be to blame."

"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself!" Harry yelled, and Draco shot a look of surprise at Harry. Harry curled his hands onto fists, and clenched his teeth. "You attention seeking prat! Everything you do if for attention! Oh look at me! I cut myself! Look at me! I'm to blame for all this. Let me live in misery! This is my fault! WELL GUESS WHAT DRACO. Time for you to STOP thinking about yourself and how much others THINK about you, and start thinking about my BEST FRIEND BEING DEAD."

Draco stood silently, staring at Harry. Hermione sniffled, and looked up at him as well. Harry's hands, which were still clenched into fists, were quivering, his breathe coming out choppy and hard. He fought back more tears, and wiped them furiously away with his sleeve as he felt them running down his hot cheeks. Hermione sniffed again.  
"Harry…really. Now isn't the time t-"  
"Well you know what Hermione? It IS your fault. He loved you. You didn't REALIZE that? You spent all your time with HIM," he pointed angrily at Draco, whose face was now a calm, indecipherable look. His eyes were cold and steely again, glassy from tears, but aimed sharply in Harry's direction. "Ron felt like he needed to be like HIM to get your attention. All you needed to do was come to us, Hermione. We're you're best friends, we understa-"

"You don't understand ANYTHING." Hermione yelled, and this time, it was Harry's turn to look shocked. "You never would have! That's why I had to go to HIM."

"But we HATE HIM!" Harry bellowed.  
"Hello! Standing RIGHT here!" Draco said, looking at Harry incredulously. Harry gave him a look of exasperation, and turned back to Hermione.

"So you're saying this is my fault?" Hermione snapped. She looked slowly back down to Ron's body, in which she tenderly pushed back the red hair that fell over his face. Another tear rolled down her cheek, falling softly onto his pale face. Her fingers slid up his cheek to his eyes, which she closed. She took a long shuddering breath and slowly laid Ron's body onto the floor, standing up shakily. She then turned a steely gaze to Harry. He stood, not knowing what to say. Was he really blaming her? He felt his face getting hot again. He needed to blame someone. But was it worth blaming the only friend he had left?

The three children stood in the great hall, around the body of their dear friend and enemy. And for once, no one knew what to say.

The next week seemed to go in slow motion for Harry. The news of Ron's death spread like wildfire after a chance appearance by Neville, who came upon the trio and Ron's body while heading to the common rooms. Unlike the death of Cedric Diggory, who was popular among staff and students, the glum demeanor of the school was no where to be found. Harry felt as though he was only this dark cloud floating through the halls, as everyone else went on with their days. Everything was extra bright, sharp, and hard. Rumors started. Bed by the surprising circumstances of his death.

"I heard he was into drugs." Harry heard some fifth years whispering.

"Stupid kid. Trying to make a big scene. Why didn't he just throw himself off the Astronomy tower like everyone else?" another said, and Harry felt himself angered by these whisperings in the halls, in the classes. The only people who seemed to share his gloom were Hermione, the Weasley's, and surprisingly, Draco.

Two days after Ron's death, Harry passed Draco in the hall. He stopped, thinking twice about what he was about to do. Then, turning suddenly. He grabbed Draco and pulled him into a nearby classroom. A confused Draco followed. He stopped in the room and turned to Harry, who was closing the door and locking it. He had a smirk on his face, but quickly wiped it off. This was no time for feeling to intervene. He hated him. He hates him. So much. That's right. He loves him. I mean, hates him.

"Draco I-"

"What the hell do you want with me, Potter?" Draco spat, giving him a look of sheer distaste.

"I…uh, wanted to see how you were. We haven't spoken since-"

"Yeh well, I'm fine." He said, coldly. I miss you.

"Well, that's good. I guess." Harry said, awkwardly.

"Why the hell do you care?" Draco narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms.

"I-I…care. About….you." Harry said quietly, looking down. "I love y-"

"DON'T!" Draco said loudly. Harry looked up at him surprise. He was backed against a desk, a look of utter terror in his eyes. He frowned deeply, and shook his head. "Don't even spew that shit on me. Don't even…"

"Draco, I-"

"Shut UP! HARRY! SHUT UP!" Draco said, his voice growing higher, a note of pleading in it. Harry looked him over closely. It hurt him to see Draco so distressed. And suddenly, he hated himself for putting him through so much.

"I'm sorry. I love you" he said quietly.

"Shut up!" Draco said again, angrily.

"I. Love you." Harry said again, a bit more strongly. He had to make Draco know, he had to make him understand. He took a step towards Draco, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Stop!" Draco said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. But Harry advanced slowly, pushing Draco softly towards the wall. He hit with a small thud, and Harry took Draco's shoulders in both hands, shaking him slightly.

"I. LOVE. YOU. DRACO." Harry said again, but this time, Draco didn't cry out. He didn't flinch or try to escape. He merely looked up to Harry, his eyes wide and filled with tears.

"No you don't. You used me. To make yourself feel big. You took advantage of my feelings for you." With that, Harry let go, and Draco made his way slowly towards the door. "You don't love me,"

You never did." And Draco shut the door. Harry stood alone in the classroom, staring at the door that Draco had just exited out of. And for the first time since before the day he first kissed Draco, he felt completely and utterly alone.


End file.
